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Updated: June 14, 2025
At 4.15 P.M. we were at the end of the Tanner Trail, the outlet of the Little Colorado Trail to the rim above. It had taken seven hours of toil to cover the same ground we now sped over in an hour and a quarter. Major Powell, in 1872, found here the remnant of a very small hut built of mesquite logs, but whether the remains of an Indian's or white man's shelter cannot be stated.
How my fellow-guests managed to keep their countenances I cannot tell. I am certain I never could have sat opposite to any one with such an Ojibbeway Indian's head-dress on without giggling. But no one gave me the least hint of my misfortune, and it only burst upon me suddenly when I returned to my own room and my own glass.
He proved to be adept. Thorpe and Injin Charley stopped work to watch him. At first the Indian's stolid countenance seemed a trifle doubtful. After a time it cleared. "Good! he grunted. "You do that well," Thorpe remarked. "Is it difficult?" "It takes practice," replied the boy. "See that riffle?"
"What will the young chief, who comes from toward the sun, give?" demanded the Huron, observing that Heyward hesitated in his desire to end the enumeration of benefits with that which might form the climax of an Indian's wishes.
Jessica tried the little door, which refused to open, and to her inquiry for the key, Antonio pointed to his own pillow. After a slight hesitation she approached and secured the key from beneath it; but when she had opened the cupboard found that all the Indian's exquisite weaving had been removed.
Now it swayed uncertainly, much as a drunken man staggers down a street. "What's wrong with him? It can't be liquor. Yet if he's not drunk, what's got into him?" the soldier asked aloud, expecting no answer that explained this phenomenon. Tom shook his head. "See. The Indian's drivin' now. He follows a straight enough line. You can tell he's at the tail line by the shape of the webs.
The very winds blew the Indian's cornfield into the meadow, and pointed out the way which he had not the skill to follow. He had no better implement with which to intrench himself in the land than a clam-shell. But the farmer is armed with plow and spade. In literature it is only the wild that attracts us. Dullness is but another name for tameness.
Harry Somerville embarked in the bow of the strange Indian's canoe, so as to lighten the other, and enable all parties to have a fair chance. After snuffing the breeze for a few seconds, the foremost animal took the water, and commenced swimming towards the opposite shore of the lake, which at this particular spot was narrow. It was followed by seven others.
His legs, though short, are exceedingly muscular, and he has quite a bushy tail. These animals are very powerful, and in breaking into an Indian's "cache" can remove logs and stones much larger and heavier than one man can lift. They are very destructive when they find a "cache" of this description.
Not long ago I visited the Village of Peace the Indian name for the mission and was struck by the friendliness and industry which prevailed there. Truly it was a village of peace. Yet it is almost to early to be certain of permanent success of this work. The Indian's nature is one hard to understand.
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